


Height Charts & Distant Memories

by QueenofStarlight



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofStarlight/pseuds/QueenofStarlight
Summary: Rosa McClain reflects back on the memories of her son and his childhood rival.





	Height Charts & Distant Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heavenlyrare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenlyrare/gifts).



> This is a happy birthday gift for my very lovely, very dear friend, Ari! Sorry it's a little short- I couldn't think of anything else to really add to this ; w ; originally it was going to be even shorter and more romance-based, but I wasn't happy with it so I scrapped it and started over, and now we have this. Sorry, also, that it's angsty, but to be honest, what else could you have expected from me? Happy birthday me babbie!! I love you!!!

When they left for college, they’d never expected what was to come. And how could they? They were childhood friends, sure, but they weren’t what you would call _Soulmates_. They argue and bicker near constantly, with perspectives so different it was hard for them to agree on anything. They’re black and white, night and day, cat and dog. And yet, they’re inseparable, always have been. Memories float in their heads of relatives and classmates and other friends asking why they keep hanging out together if they don’t like each other, and even now, they have no answer.

Keith has never really understood others all that well. As a kid, he had trouble getting along with the other kids, too much of a hothead to recognize when someone was joking or not. Lance was the opposite; he was a people person, a great conversationalist, and naturally friendly in every sense of the word. Of course, none of that seemed to apply to Keith, despite the fact they lived across the street from each other and had every reason to be the best of friends.

Back then, the slightest of disagreements would, without fail, throw them into a heated argument that most often escalated to blows before anyone could interfere. They were constantly bruised and cut up, constantly at the Principal’s office with Lance’s mom and Keith’s brother sat in chairs beside them, two equally exasperated expressions on their faces. They would go home and get grounded, and a few days later the cycle would repeat, with both boys in the office again with an even more intense punishment when they finally got home.

But no matter how hard they fought or how bad an argument got, there was always one thing that would never fail to bring them together: the height chart in the McClain family garage. 

It was a simple thing, colored lines painted onto the peeling wood of the wall by the door next to other charts for all of Lance’s siblings, all of their names etched high up toward the ceiling. The first line was close to the ground, the age on the side indicating they had been only a year or so old when the chart had been started. For every year another line sits, a little taller, a little crooked.

When they were four years old, it was a special thing they had Rosa McClain help them with, and the lines are at almost exactly the same height, perfectly straight. When they were ten years old, it was a competition neither of them really initiated, Lance and Keith both insisting they write the lines themselves, resulting in two squiggles only inches apart, Keith’s being the one higher up. When they’re fourteen, it’s still a competition, but more one-sided: Lance taking his inches of excess as a victory over Keith, who’s nothing less of a prodigy in school.

When they’re sixteen, it’s a going-away ritual, of sorts, both of them hesitating to leave home. It’s a symbol of moving on, of adulthood, of future success, according to Keith’s brother, Shiro.

When they’re twenty-two, it’s little more than a memory.

Rosa runs a careful finger over the red and blue markings, remembering times when she’d had to spend a good hour washing paint out of Lance’s hair. She remembers pulling him and Keith apart when they argued over the usefulness of flip flops, and then having them huddled up in the garage five minutes later, drawing lines over each other’s heads with their tongues sticking out in concentration. She remembers the day they left for college, remembers tearing up as she looked at how much her son has grown, remembers him bawling like a baby in her arms.

She wants to believe the boys are alright. After all, they’ve been trained for military combat in _space_ , of all things, at what she knows to be the best school in the business. She wants to believe that her son will come back, that his best friend will be by his side. She wants to believe.

But it’s been six years to the day since she received the news that her son, her baby boy, Lance, and two other cadets in his class were lost on a mission just like Kerberos, that the ship couldn’t be recovered and nothing could be found of the three teens. It’s been six years since her heart broke, and even after so long, she can’t find the will to try and piece it back together.

Rosa runs the pad of her thumb across the tallest line on the chart, on Lance’s side. He’d been a full foot and a half taller than her the day he and Keith left for the Garrison. She feels a splinter embed itself in her skin, but she doesn’t move her hand away.

Because this chart is all she has left of her boys.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic follows the canon timeline, except Keith and Lance grew up together instead of meeting for the first time at the Garrison. Oh, and broganes.


End file.
